


Getting There

by curiouserncuriouser



Series: The Songbird [3]
Category: Actor RPF, American (US) Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23646259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiouserncuriouser/pseuds/curiouserncuriouser
Summary: She told him to move on. She wanted to move on. But...could they?
Relationships: Sebastian Stan/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Songbird [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699837
Comments: 21
Kudos: 30





	1. Really Good to See You

**Author's Note:**

> This is one possible ending to "The Songbird" where our protagonist, Shyla, finds herself torn between her leading men. This is an ultimately fluffy ending, with some angst first, so if you want to read all the plot leading up to it, please check out the first work in the series: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22905268/
> 
> If you HAVE read that, this picks up a few months after we left off.

She was positive she’d never felt so nervous in her entire life. With auditions, she could always try to moderate her expectations, she could trick herself into not freaking out too much. And she’d come to terms enough with her anxiety that she had techniques to manage it. But tonight, she was going to the premiere of Civil War, and that would mean seeing Sebastian and Chris for the first time since August. They had been in contact, as both of them had insisted they wanted to stay friends with her. She’d texted with them, and interacted on social media. But she flew out on her international adventures they day after they wrapped, and even when she was back in the States, she hadn’t visited them, so she’d kept her distance. It had been chicken-shit of her, she knew it. She’d gotten busy with other projects, as had they. She had told them both, in no uncertain terms, to move on. She wanted that for them. She wanted that for herself, too. But she still felt her stomach do a backflip any time a notification came in.

At least with Chris, it had finally settled back into their friendly patter from before Atlanta. He’d even started talking about other women, although she didn’t think he was actually dating any of them seriously. It seemed like a step in the right direction.

But Seb…he was a tricky one. He ran a little hot and cold. One day, she was sure he was ignoring her texts. The next, he would make a flirty comment on something she posted to Instagram. And then he would call her to catch up like old friends. He’d been working hard, doing a lot of filming. But he hadn’t mentioned any other women, he said he didn’t have time to date. She had to take him at his word, because what else could she do?

But tonight, she was going to see them again, spend time with them. She looked herself over in the mirror. This was about as good as it got. Her weight had moved around a little, she’d lost much of the muscles she’d gained training for the film, and now that she wasn’t working out non-stop, she’d added a little more to her curves. The dress her stylist found definitely put her assets on display, she felt like her tits were going to choke her out. But she had to admit: she looked good. Her hair freshly dyed blue with a bit of teal mixed in to set off the forest green of her dress. She looked like a bombshell, even if she felt like she wanted to curl up in the fetal position and make it all go away.

She would never get used to seeing all the reporters and fans pressing against each other, jockeying for attention. She smiled, posed, answered their questions. She was a little saucy with some of them. If they asked her a sexist question, she would either shut them down or pretend like they’d asked a better question, one they would ask one of her male colleagues. If they asked who she was wearing, she told them about her favorite charities. When one particularly bold reported asked if Disney princesses were allowed to display so much flesh, she told him off: “Did your publishers _really_ allow you to come here and ask such a disrespectful, misogynistic question?” she could hear a chuckle behind her as she scowled at the man, and turned to walk away.

When she turned to storm off, she almost ran into Seb, who looked over her shoulder and said “Yeah, fuck you, man.” Then he turned his attention to her, holding her by the shoulders for a moment, just looking at her with his sparkling blue eyes. “Hey,” he finally said, and pulled her in for a hug. “It’s really good to see you, Shyla.”

“It’s really good to see you, too, Seb,” she said into his chest.

“Have there been any good questions tonight?”

“A couple asked me if I was excited to be here, but that’s as good as it’s gotten.”

“Ouch. Well, kick their asses, babygirl,” he squeezed her arm before walking over to take some of his own questions.

She moved on, trying not to think of how good Seb looked with his hair shorter. She greeted the rest of her castmates, it was so wonderful to see them all again. Chris found her and swept her up in a huge hug. It didn’t feel flirty, just friendly and playful. No lingering touches or anything, just his boundless puppy dog energy, and being glad to see his friend. Maybe this would all be okay? Neither man seemed mad or upset, they seemed genuinely happy to see her. And neither of them went immediately back into seduction mode, although she would have been surprised if they’d done that in front of all these cameras.

The rest of the premiere went off without a hitch. It was so good seeing the cast and crew again, and the movie turned out great, of course. It wasn’t even too bad seeing herself onscreen. The make-out scene made her blush, more because of the hooting and hollering of some of the cast. She knew they were mostly teasing Chris, not her, but it was still a blush-worthy moment. And even the afterparty went better than she’d hoped. She got to meet the friends and family of the cast and crew. Filming was going to start up again soon enough, so when people left at the end of the night, even with the crew and others who wouldn’t be around for press stuff it was still a “see you soon” for the most part. Shyla went home exhausted, but less anxious. Maybe it would all be okay after all.

That week she was scheduled to be on Chelsea Handler with Chris, Seb, and Frank. It wasn’t going to be a normal interview, it was going to be a filmed dinner party. Chelsea was pretty intimidating, but Shyla knew she could hold her own, so she wasn’t particularly worried about that. Really, it was one of the press events she was the least worried about, the only concern was that she get through the meal without spilling anything on herself. There was a slight chance she’d say something that Marvel didn’t approve of, but if they were worried about that, they shouldn’t have picked her for this one. And it wasn’t live, so if Marvel didn’t approve hopefully it would wind up on the cutting room floor instead of firing her.

And it felt like things were going well. At least, not terribly. She and Chelsea were kind of birds of a sassy feather, and they made fun of the men a lot. Sebastian seemed a bit like he didn’t want to be there, so Shyla had to stop herself from overcompensating. If it had just been Chris and Sebastian, it would have been fine. But Frank had to open his big mouth. Belittling the difficulties faced by women and black people in Hollywood by adding Italians to the group…she didn’t want to let that slide, but before she could even finish her thought to call him out on that, he put quotes around “black people”.

Shyla couldn’t stop herself, “I’m sorry, excuse me? Why did you use quotes on that?”

“Whaddya mean, I just…”

“Well quotation marks are used either when you’re citing another source or when you’re using a word or phrase _ironically_. So…which is it?”

“I’m just saying…”

Shyla was ready to go in on this. Frank was being a racist asshole, and she couldn’t just sit back and let it happen. But the others at the table could see she was about to go off, so they dismissed Frank’s comments and changed the subject. Chris patted her on the knee beneath the table, knowing how mad she was getting, trying to encourage her to keep a cool head while the cameras were running.

But the moment they stopped rolling, Frank made it clear that he hadn’t forgotten. She put her napkin down and was pushing herself away from the table, when he jumped up, knocking his chair backwards and shouting “What the _fuck_ was that, Shyla?”

“We should be asking you that, Frank! Seriously!” she shouted back.

“You fucking _bitch_ , why would you turn on me like that, make me look like a racist?”

“Frank, you made _yourself_ look like a racist. I didn’t do shit.”

He’d rounded the table, and Chris stood in his way, “Hey, let’s calm down. Don’t talk to her like that,” he said in calm but coolly threatening tones.

“Frank, if you don’t want to be seen as racist and misogynistic, then don’t fucking BE racist and misogynistic. It’s _that_ simple.”

He shoved Chris aside and charged at her. She forced herself to stand her ground, she knew she wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight, but running didn’t feel like an option either. She tried to make he muscles relax, preparing herself like if she was going to be in a car accident.

But the hit didn’t come. Sebastian stepped in from Frank’s periphery and clocked him in the face, knocking him to the floor. He wasn’t unconscious or anything, but it bought enough time for a couple crewmembers to get to the scene and haul Frank outside.

Shyla went to Seb’s side. “Are you okay? Did you hurt your hand?” she took his hand for a moment to examine it before he brushed her off.

“I’m fine. It hurts, but nothing’s broken.”

“Seb, are you sure? Just let me…”

“Shyla, it’s fine.”

She looked in his eyes for a moment, fighting back tears, before throwing her arms around him, whispering her thanks. He gave her a squeeze, and she thought he maybe put his lips to her hair for a moment, taking a breath before stepping back and turning away. Chris swept in to give her a hug and check on her before she could say anything more to Seb, and she heard Chelsea mutter “ _fuck_ , I wish we’d got that on film.”

When Frank was long-gone, and she had said her thank-yous and goodbyes, she went out the front door and saw Seb sitting on the step. She sat next to him, not saying anything.

“I’m gonna get fired,” Seb said, not looking at her.

“No you’re not, Seb. Marvel isn’t going to lose the Winter Soldier for punching a racist whose character is already dead.”

“But this was for a fucking press thing, they’re definitely not going to…”

“It’s not like you punched him in the middle of dinner. The cameras weren’t even rolling. And anyone in there will tell Marvel you were defending me. Pretty sure no one thought Frank was going to give me a hug.” She took his hand, and he finally let her, wincing a little as she gently pressed different points. “It doesn’t seem like it’s broken, but I’m no doctor. And I don’t think Frank got anything other than a black eye and a badly bruised ego out of it. You’ll be fine, Seb. And if Marvel tries to fire you, send them my way, I’ll have something to say about it. Maybe I’ll say it was me that punched Frank, that’d be super badass.”

“Oh now you’re trying to take credit?” he finally smiled a little.

“I’m happy to jump on this grenade. Especially if it gets you to smile,” she smiled back at him for a moment, nudging him with her shoulder. “Well, I wanna get out of here. You look like you could use a drink.”

He dropped his head into his hands, “Yeah. I could really use a drink.”

“Where are you staying in town?”

“West Hollywood.”

“Oh, you’re not far from my house! Well, I have plenty of whiskies to choose from. Unless you had a bar in mind…”

“You’re my hero, let’s roll. Did you drive?”

“Yup. Come on, my car is this way.”

Seb settled on her couch while she got them something to drink. He looked around the room, taking in the full effect of Shyla’s sanctuary. He’d been in her Atlanta apartment countless times, but that wasn’t really _her_. Being here surrounded by her books, knick-knacks, art, even just furniture and plants she’d picked out, it was so homey. It was nice.

A lowball of whiskey appeared at his shoulder, and he took it gratefully. He watched her set down her own glass, and move to a record player to put on some low music, then sit on the other side of the couch. She had taken off her blazer and shoes, just down to one of her sundresses. When she tucked her bare feet under her, he had a strong sense of deja-vu from that first cheat meal she’d made him. Now she was taking care of him again. And he still wanted her.

They talked for what felt like all night, both getting a little tipsy. She wasn’t glad for how the dinner ended, but she was glad for the opportunity to connect with Seb again. She did her best not to do anything flirty, although the more whiskey she got in her, the harder that got. When they realized how late it had gotten, she ordered him a Lyft, and walked him to the door. They leaned against the door, just looking at each other for a minute. She really, really wanted to kiss him. It would be so easy, just a small step forward, up on her tiptoes and…no. She couldn’t. She told him to move on, she couldn’t pull him back after all these months because she was drunk and he was hot and she knew how very good in bed he was. It wasn’t fair. Well, it wasn’t fair for him to still be hot. But it was especially unfair to just seduce him after everything. Maybe they couldn’t be friends after all.

He pulled her in for a hug, and she melted into his arms. But she didn’t kiss him. She just took some deep breaths. And then she let him go.

They would be okay. She might not be okay. But _they_ would be okay, they would make it through the tour, and they would make it through filming. They had to.


	2. Chapter 2

Shyla had been enjoying the press tour. These things were supposed to be such a slog, but she was trying to find a bit of fun in it. It was undeniably exhausting, having so many people demanding so much of her time, having to meet a never-ending deluge of new people. She wasn’t a very extroverted person by nature, it was why narration worked so well for her, sitting in a booth by herself day in, day out.

But she got to spend more time with her friends, which helped her keep her energy up. And she was trying to see a few more places in Asia as she enjoyed that leg, and her friends to some of the sites she’d already seen. It was Team Cap taking on the Asian leg of the press tour, so she got to be variously paired up with Mackie, Seb, and Chris, as well as one of the directors, Joe. And it was fun! She fell back into old patterns with Chris, if less emotionally charged. Mackie was always a blast to hang out with. Seb…it was still hard. She didn’t quite feel comfortable in her own skin around him. After what they’d shared, the innocent, if somewhat flirty, touches that she would give to any of her friends just couldn’t be the same. But stopping herself also felt wrong. Slowly, they found a rhythm, and she tried to push all the mental images to the back of her mind.

After Asia and the London premier, there were a few more events Stateside. The schedule wasn’t as intense, and she even got to go home to Seattle for a convention, spend a little time visiting family and friends, before heading to New York to wrap things up. The convention was going to be somewhat intense, a lot of autographs and photo ops, as well as a panel. But she’d be with Mackie and Seb, and she was excited to see her hometown from this angle.

The guys were running late from their photo sessions. Seb’s line was a million miles long with fangirls, and she was sure Anthony was just talking too much with everyone, he was way too much of a social butterfly to stick to the short timeslots they were supposed to spend for each photo. From her spot backstage, she could hear the host of the panel, Kevin Smith, start her introduction, “You know her as Anna from Frozen, and more importantly for you nerds, Wren Gold, the Avengers’ Songbird, Seattle’s Own, Shyla Riddle!”

“Thanks! Oh my god, hi! Look at you all!” She waved as she came out, then gave Kevin a hug and greeted him on her way to sit. “This couch is so luxurious, there’s so much of it!” instead of sitting on it, she lay down on it, sprawling across its length. First she lay on her back, like Kevin was her therapist, then flipped over like they were having girl talk at a slumber party. She switched around a few times while it was the two of them talking, the audience ate it up. She was wearing tulle skirt that basically looked like a tutu, so nothing scandalous was seen, but still, it was fun.

When Seb came out, she lifted her head and he placed it in his lap, patting her head, and the audience lost it. Between the shippers, the gossips, and just the women who were obsessed with Seb, it raised a considerable ruckus. “This is why my autograph line was so short, everyone’s mad some local chick gets to hang out with this cast! And also probably how I’m going to be killed, I can hear all the fangirls with their mental gears turning on plans to murder me after having my head in Sebastian’s lap.”

“So are you two an item or something?” Kevin asked.

“Friends are allowed to be affectionate!” Shyla defended herself.

Seb added “I mean, after all the fight scenes and training and everything, the whole cast gets pretty close. And Shyla’s a force of nature, she gets what she wants. If it’s cuddles…” Seb shrugged, and the audience all melted from the cuteness.

“And what about your characters? They set up a pretty tough choice between Bucky and Steve for Wren,” Kevin asked.

“Hey now, I wouldn’t answer that even if I could. I mean, first of all, I don’t even know what Wren chose in that moment.”

“Really, they didn’t tell you?”

“Nope! They don’t trust anyone with _anything_! I’m not as bad as Tom Holland, but still, that’s a pretty big secret to keep. Frankly, I’m glad I don’t have to worry about it. At least, not until we get the next scripts.”

After some more questions, Anthony came out. Shyla moved her feet out of the way so he could sit, but promptly put them in his lap. “Look at my new J’s, Mackie!”

“They’re fly and all, but I know you’re not putting your dirty-ass shoes on me!” he objected before putting the mic down and slipping her shoes off her feet. When he saw her socks, he threw his head back, laughing hysterically. Seb and Kevin leaned in to try to see what he was looking at. He picked up the mic and said “Her socks say ‘Queen of Bitch Mountain’!” and everyone cracked up.

“Shop local, y’all!” Shyla endorsed, and told them the name of the shop the audience could find them.

“Wow, well there you have it folks! Shyla is not only a princess, she’s a queen!”

“It’s true! Ooh!” she said as Mackie started squeezing her feet. She re-arranged herself on her back, looking up at Seb, who was laughing down at her. “Thanks for the foot rub, Anthony! Man, I’m putting this in my rider, ‘must be able to lay down and receive a foot massage on stage, preferably with head in lap of a cute dude.’”

Kevin pointed out, “Well, if you’re the Queen of Bitch Mountain, I would think you have every right to demand it!”

She beamed and gave a royal wave, “We thank you for your acknowledgement of my nobility, you will be spared in the trials to come.”

The whole time Seb alternated between smiling down at her and looking out at the audience to share a look of incredulity. Until she turned on him.

“Sebastian, are your lips chapped or something?” she asked after he licked his lips. She turned her face to the audience, “I swear, this man does more licking of his lips than anyone I have ever met, that’s why Anthony calls him Sexy Seabass.” He just laughed down at her, she would never stop surprising him. “Do you need some lip balm? Actually…I don’t have any, but I do have a very moisturizing gloss if it’ll help.”

They grinned at each other, and he shrugged and said “Sure.”

His jaw dropped when she reached into her bra and pulled out a tube of lip gloss. “I kept it warm for you!” she declared, and Seb lost it. After he wiped the laughter-induced tears from his eyes, he accepted the gloss, and applied it. There was much hooting and hollering from the audience, between the bra storage and Seb wearing lip gloss, the fans were losing it.

The rest of the panel continued in the same vein as Kevin asked his questions, and the trio made jokes and teased each other as they answered. Shyla sat up for the audience questions, and really engaged. Most of the fangirls had questions for Seb, and Mackie tried to take most of them anyway. A few questions for Shyla, mostly local references, like thoughts on the best places to go for certain foods, or memories of the area. And the inevitable question about what it was like to kiss Chris, plus the equally inevitable blushing she did in response while she assured them it was just part of the job, and she tried to avoid looking anywhere near Seb.

For one of the last questions, a fan asked, “Shyla, this was your first live-action movie, and you’ve said in interviews that it was pretty intimidating. Who helped you the most, and what did they do?”

“That is an excellent question, thank you for that! Really, all of the cast and crew was incredibly kind, supportive, and patient with me during this process. Well, except Paul Rudd, he knows what he did,” she gave an over-the-top scowl at the imaginary Paul, before continuing, “But as for who stood out? Well, Sebastian here was the first person I met, we got to Atlanta early to start work on our fight scene. And he could tell you how scared I was on that first day. But he just…I dunno, he was great. He was very calm and confident about it, he was fun and playful. Just his whole demeanor helped me feel more at ease, and it really set the stage for meeting the rest of the cast and the whole process. I don’t like not being good at things, so I was putting a lot of pressure on myself, but he had every faith that I was going to nail it, and he didn’t even know me. I’m being kind of long winded, but yeah: Sebastian was just his wonderful, supportive self, right from the start.” She finished, and she felt an arm on her shoulder, and Seb pulled her in, holding her to his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a little sample of how I thought the press tour might go with Shyla on board. I fully admit I'm stalling, this part has a slower build, but I think it's worth it. There's just another Seb movie that I want to integrate in...but I've got to actually watch it first.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated, as I'm a praise junkie and that's what keeps me writing more in these endings!


	3. New Ventures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little smutty. It's like Diet Smut! 
> 
> And yes, the movie is "Endings, Beginnings" which is now available to buy online. If you're obsessive about timelines, this wouldn't have been in production at the right time but whatever, it had some fantastic sex scenes and I wanted to use it!

Sebastian thought the Civil War press tour went so, so well. He normally had a hard time engaging in interviews, especially in the big panel-style ones anyway. The questions were so rarely for him specifically, always focused on Chris or Robert, he could get away with just spacing out. But having Shyla there was breathing life into the whole experience for him. She was a natural at these things, even though he could tell she stressed about them too, she just made it more fun for everyone. The audiences, the interviewers, the other cast members, but mostly for him.

He had tried to move on. He really, truly had. She hadn’t chosen him. She hadn’t chosen _anyone_ , and as far as he could tell, she was still single. But from the first moment he saw her again, making a sarcastic joke to a reporter on the red carpet at the first premiere, he had been immediately sucked back in. There was something too magnetic about her, and about how he felt and acted when he was with her. He tried in earnest to go back to just being friends. And he truly loved her as a friend. She was so funny and smart and empathetic. However, she was also a very affectionate friend, she was that way with everyone. But not everyone else had a clear mental image of making her come on a moonlit park bench, much less that world-shattering night in his hotel room. He just couldn’t shake her.

As the press tour was wrapping up, he was finalizing some details on his next project. It was going to be another smaller film, with a director he really admired. The project was really interesting, it was a romantic drama about a love triangle, and was going to be almost entirely improvised. And it felt like a very real, honest, even gritty romance. He’d had great talks with the director, he was excited about it, but he found himself with a quandary. After he’d been cast, they had him and the other male lead, Jamie Dornan, meet with some of the women they were considering for the female lead. There wasn’t a lot of spark there with any of them. Some women had chemistry with him or with Jamie, but very few had it with both. And the one woman who did just wasn’t resonating with the character very well.

He knew Shyla would be _perfect_ for the role. He knew that she’d lived something similar to the character’s experiences, hell, he’d been a third of the triangle himself. He knew she could handle the character, he had faith that she could pull off improvising the role, and he knew she would pass the chemistry test. There was no doubt in his mind that she was the one perfect woman for the part.

But how could he ask that of her? If he wasn’t involved in the film, it would be one thing. But acting out a love triangle that was an almost eerie approximation of what he’d had with her? And there were a lot of make out and sex scenes, and with no script to think of it would have to be very…instinctual. Could he ask that of her? And, not only that, he’d be going into it while still in love with her. He’d have to go through those scenes knowing she was acting, or wondering if it was all acting, and knowing it wasn’t really an act for him. And he’d have to watch her play out the other side of the love triangle, with yet another man. Jamie was married, had a kid, but Sebastian of all people knew just what kind of effect Shyla could have. Even if nothing happened in real life, watching it play out for the cameras would still be hard.

On one of the last days of the Civil War press tour, he got drinks with her. It was nothing scandalous, just friends having a last hurrah, and they got to talking about next projects. She was doing a few more audiobooks, mostly to pass the time, and he started telling her about the movie. After the third drink of the night, he finally confessed that they’d been having trouble finding a female lead. And he spilled. He let her know how perfect she would be, even acknowledging her connection to the character’s story, without directly mentioning that it was the love triangle with him and Chris he’d been thinking about. He managed to catch himself before he mentioned that he still loved her.

She asked smart questions. He always forgot that she’d only done a couple of movies, he’d been acting so long, but she had a lot of questions about improvisation, plus the director. She asked about his concerns with the project. He managed to explain that his only concern was the chemistry, if they didn’t find the right female lead, everything could fall apart. He didn’t relay his concerns about having too _much_ chemistry.

But Shyla was no dummy. She eventually got around to asking, “And…what about us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Seb, let’s not play dumb. It sounds like this movie will be pretty intense to film, and with the sex scenes…are you sure? With everything we’ve been through?”

“That’s in the past. Besides, it won’t really be us. It’ll still be a movie. It won’t be real sex, or real feelings. It’s just the job,” he tried to convince both her and himself.

She took a deep breath, watching his face. She exhaled slowly. “Okay. I’ll talk to the director.”

He tackled her in an inebriated hug. This movie was going to be amazing.

When she got back to LA, she met with the director, Drake, inviting him over to her house. This movie would be such a vulnerable experience, she figured she might as well start from a place of vulnerability. And she was glad she did, they hit it off immediately. She liked how he spoke about the project, and was really interested in the opportunity to stretch herself, do something very different, very un-Disney. But they also just talked about relationships, music, art, the creative process. She was fascinated in his approach, and felt very seen and supported, and it just felt really…right. She agreed to meet with the other cast members, of course she knew Sebastian, but Jamie was going to be in town in another week, so she made plans to meet up with him. She texted Seb about it, and he agreed to join, make it more comfortable.

It wasn’t like they could do a table read, as there was no script. Basically, it was going to be some more or less freestyle flirting, playing the parts of their respective characters. The director found a meeting room to use, but when the four of them got there, it felt too weird. Sterile.

Shyla laughed, asking “Is _this_ how you did all of the chemistry tests?”

“Well, some of them were in different offices,” Drake explained. “But yeah. We wanted to make sure the actresses felt safe and comfortable.”

“Very respectful,” Shyla nodded in agreement. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Jamie asked, plainly surprised.

“Nobody has chemistry in a place like this! This character is supposed to be an artist, she’s messy, and you think she’s gonna be turned on by sensible conference room furniture? Let’s find a bar, do karaoke.”

Jamie laughed and looked at Seb, who shrugged and responded “It’s probably safer to do what she says. She’s trouble, man.”

Shyla already had a phone out. “It looks like there’s a place about a 10-minute drive away that does private room karaoke. We’ll be away from prying eyes, we can just get ourselves into character, and just…have fun!”

“ _In-character_ karaoke?” Jamie’s jaw dropped.

“Do you _not_ figure out what your character’s karaoke jams are?” she gave an open-mouthed smile of faux incredulity. “Because I’ve already got a whole list for Daphne.” Jamie and Seb exchanged a look, and she offered, “If you want to do something else, I’m totally open to suggestions. We can just go to a bar, or a coffee shop, or a beach, or whatever else. I’m not going to _force_ anyone to do karaoke. I mean, especially if you’re afraid you’re gonna suck…” she teased in a singsong voice.

“Well I’m not one to step down from a challenge!” Jamie insisted.

“I love karaoke!” Seb agreed.

She called ahead, and they shared a car. She drove, Jamie sat in the front seat, and they chatted a little about their actual lives. Shyla asked a lot of questions, and was genuinely interested in what Jamie had to say. Seb sat in the back, a little jealous at the attention Jamie was getting, combined with excitement that it seemed to be working. Shyla wasn’t even getting into character yet, and she already seemed to have Jamie charmed. Seb just tried to distract himself by talking to Drake.

When they arrived & got settled, Shyla laid down some rules. “I know that a big piece of this part is that each man sees Daphne differently. So I’ve got kind of a mix of songs in my head, that seem like they would appeal to either of your characters, or just be for herself. They’re not necessarily great karaoke songs, but that’s not really the point. You are welcome to approach it however you want, and we can talk through it. I figured I’d be flirty, but I’m not going to do anything scandalous,” she directed at Jamie, “I respect that you’re married and don’t want to make you uncomfortable. And anyone is allowed to pause or tap out completely at any time. And, Drake, you’re welcome to do some songs too, you’re the director, you have all the freedom here! Sound fair?” They all agreed. “Well then let’s rock!”

Shyla was a dream. She was fun, funny, wistful, sad. She sang “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” by Frankie Valli, then sat next to Jamie for a while. She sang “Black Velvet” by Alannah Miles and sat with Seb for a while. Seb could tell Jamie was enamored with her, and Seb knew he’d done the right thing. She was perfect. But he also couldn’t help but feel, in the back of his mind, that he’d made a terrible mistake. They should have just gone with someone he had less chemistry with. Or found someone else he had good chemistry with, maybe they would’ve gotten his mind off her.

Jamie and Seb were a little reticent to sing at first. Karaoke with a Disney princess was a bit intimidating: they didn’t have bad voices, Jamie even used to be in a band and had sung on a soundtrack, but they knew they weren’t really at her level. But she was so warm and encouraging, they realized they were truly enjoying themselves. Shyla was in.

As thing were winding down, Seb got up for his turn, “Okay, so, this next song, I’m a little surprised they even have it, but it was on my playlist for songs I thought Frank would like. It’s kind of…well, you’ll see.”

Shyla sat, leaning forward, her eyes held his but occasionally flicked to the lyrics on the screen. Her jaw was dropped, her hand fluttering between her chest and her lips. When he finished, “Yeah, all we want is to feel that feeling again,” and the final notes faded, she leapt to her feet and rushed him. She wrapped a hand around his neck, and held his face.

“Seb! That was _perfect_! Sorry to break, but…wow!” she threw her arms around him, lifting a foot in the air.

“No, it was just…”

“Shut up!” she lowered herself onto both feet, and jokingly slugged him in the arm. “If I said it was perfect, it was perfect! Drake, did you _hear_ that song? That needs to be in the soundtrack!”

She conceded that he’d “won,” although Seb was pretty sure she was letting him win. Seeing that look in her eye, knowing it was him that put it there…this was a mistake. He was going to end up with a broken heart, and he’d have no one else to blame. But he couldn’t stop himself.

The actual shooting was only scheduled over a month, which was a little weird for her to wrap her head around. Compared to a huge Marvel movie, it was so brief, but this movie was a lot less complicated. And the whole cast and crew was so wonderful and supportive, it was truly great working with everyone.

When it came time to film her first sex scene with Seb, she was terrified. Filming all the flirting had been pretty natural, she’d always had kind of a flirty friendship with him, so it wasn’t hard to just put herself in her character’s shoes and just ramp it up a notch. It was hard to see him putting himself in the bad boy role. At least as Bucky there was the mind control thing, but in this role, he just looked like himself, and it was harder to separate Seb from his character. The scenes with Jamie went very well, once she had accepted that while cameras were rolling he wasn’t a married father, he was a hot professor who was interested in her. He was fun to flirt with, and easy to make out with. And he had sex scene experience in spades, so he was so kind about it, and their sex scene was very tame. It was just so much harder with Seb than Jamie. She made herself a promise to start therapy again when this shoot was done.

For now, however, she had a sex scene to do. She had done the make out scene with Chris, but this was…next level. She was going to be at least a little naked for this, and since it wasn’t scripted, they were just supposed to kind of go for it. The description of the scene in the notes were very steamy. Seb had assured her this was just business. And she trusted him, she wanted to believe him. But every time their characters flirted, she couldn’t stop thinking about their dates. It was a little over a year ago, but it was seared into her brain. Going sightseeing with him, all the flirting, the touching, the kisses, the bench. And that night in his room…

But today, after she got through makeup, wardrobe, hair, everything, and talked with Drake and Seb, she had to take a moment after the set cleared. She hugged herself, trying to get herself into character, trying to think about Frank, not Seb. Trying to think about this set, not the hotel. Trying not to think about the moment she saw Seb’s heart break, knowing it was all her fault. Trying not to think about the hurt she’d caused him. Trying not to think about why he’d really wanted her in this movie with him. Trying not to think about why she agreed to it.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she knew it was Seb. “Hey, you okay?” he asked.

“Just trying to…mentally prepare.”

“Hey, it’s not going to be that bad. And you know this is a safe space, right?”

“Yeah, it’s just…it’s a big deal, is all. I just needed a minute to get out of my head.” She finally turned to look at him, and her heart broke all over again at the concern in his eyes. He would have every right to be quietly processing his own shit. After all he was about to do a sex scene with a woman who’d broken his heart. But instead he was looking out for her. “I’m good. Let’s do this.” He wrapped her in a hug, then went to take his mark and get to filming.

It was… _so_ hot. And just…natural. Drake didn’t really cut, same as with other scenes. He just let them go through the scene, and when they were done, he had them reset everything and do it another time, just to get some different shots. Shyla, for her part, was kind of shocked. The description of the scene made it clear that it was supposed to be the best sex ever for both of them, so she expected it to take a few tries to get out of her head, much less for them to get things down to the point that it was believable that they were truly having the hottest sex you could have despite not actually having sex. But it was just so instinctual. When he put his face between her thighs, she felt bodily transported to his hotel room, feeling his amazing mouth work on her. The way he touched her, the way their bodies moved together, the sense memory from every smell and taste of their night together. Even though he wasn’t inside her, with the way he was in her head he may as well have been, she started to worry that she would come in front of everyone instead of just acting like she was coming, and she thought at least Seb would notice. She didn’t, but it was close. When she got home that night, she’d expected to be up all night fretting, but she just took a cold shower and slept like a baby.


	4. Proof

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smut is heeeeeerrrreeeee!

Seb and Shyla had built a tradition of Friday drinks, just grabbing a few beers to decompress after the week’s filming. As the week progressed, however, he thought she seemed a little quieter after they wrapped each day. She was amazing in the scenes they’d done together, Seb felt very vindicated that he’d been right about how perfect she would be. And that first sex scene they’d filmed was…incredible. He knew he’d put too much of himself into it. And he needed to convince himself that it was just Shyla being at the top of her game as an actress, not that she’d been feeling what he’d been feeling. But he’d been worried about her since. She wasn’t talking to him, nothing outside of basic pleasantries and work-related talk, so he had no way of knowing what was going through her head. Was it the sex scene, had he hurt her in some way? Was there something else about the movie or filming that was getting to her? Something else he’d done? He didn’t really expect her to show up on Friday, at the rate they were going. She seemed to be avoiding him. It was nothing like when they’d filmed before, something was definitely up.

When he got to the bar in his hotel, he eventually found her sitting in the back. She inclined her head, and he came over, settling in next to her. There was definitely something wrong, she was barely looking at him. He ordered a beer, tried starting up the conversation about how well things were going, how great she was doing. He might as well have been talking to himself, her entire focus seemed to be at picking at the label on her bottle of beer. The server brought his over, he thanked her then turned to Shyla. “Okay, what’s up? I can tell you’re upset, what did I do?”

She took a long pull on her beer. She was studying the bottle when she said, “Is that what you think of yourself?”

He was confused. Of all the responses he’d imagined, this was not one of them. And while he wasn’t drunk, he still couldn’t parse what she meant. “What?”

“That you did something wrong? That you’re some kind of toxic bad boy? You clearly think that this movie is similar to…” she searched for words, “what we had. Do you think my choice was between the good boy and the bad boy?”

She was still steadfastly avoiding eye contact, so he couldn’t get a good read on what she was feeling. She seemed kind of quiet, introspective. But she was expecting an answer. “I mean…wasn’t I? Chris is the golden boy. He’s Captain America and I’m the Winter Soldier. He was your friend first, he was always very respectful. I was…I couldn’t treat you the way you deserved.”

She finally looked up at him, and he realized she wasn’t angry. She was hurt. “That was never, _ever_ it, Seb. I wasn’t choosing between good and bad. We were all at least a little shitty to each other, but nothing was black and white. And if I ever made you feel like you were the bad choice, or that you were toxic…” he could see tears brimming in her eyes.

“It wasn’t something you said or did. It was just…the situation, I guess.”

She cradled his face with both hands. “Sebastian Stan: you are not toxic. You are a wonderful man, and _any_ woman would be lucky to have you. You are a good friend and a good person. And you deserve all the love and happiness in the world.”

He searched her eyes. Why was she doing this? His heart was breaking all over again. “But I don’t deserve _you_ ,” he said. Not a question, just a statement of fact.

The tears in her eyes spilled over, “That’s not true. _I_ didn’t deserve _you_.”

He noticed she made it past tense. He knew he shouldn’t push it, but he just couldn’t stop himself. “‘ _Didn’t_ ’? What about now?”

She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, and shook her head. She swiped at her tears, sniffling, and shook her head again.

“That’s bullshit, Shyla.” He could almost laugh, but it felt hollow. “If you don’t want to be with me, don’t. But it can’t be because you don’t deserve me. That’s _bullshit_.” It was his turn to shake his head, leaning back and running his hand through his hair.

She rummaged through her purse, and slapped some cash down on the table. “Fuck you, Sebastian,” she kept shaking her head as she got up and ran away from the table.

He didn’t even hesitate, he followed her, chasing after her through the halls of the hotel. “Shyla! Stop! C’mon!” When he caught up to her, she slowed, cornered. She leaned against a wall, defeated, sobbing. He stepped up to her, and said “What do you want from me, Shyla?”

“I want honesty, Seb!”

“I’ve been nothing but honest!”

“Like _hell_ , Seb. Why did you want me in this movie?”

“Because I knew you would be amazing! I told you that!”

“And all the flirting and making out has nothing to do with it? You don’t have any feelings for me anymore, we’re just friends and colleagues?” her voice was full of acid.

He thumped the wall with the heel of his palm, not violently, he just needed some physical expression of his defeat. He didn’t know how to respond.

“Why would you _do_ this to yourself?” she sobbed.

“I…I thought I could do it. It was stupid.”

“You should have said something.”

He shook his head, “I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t handle your response. I couldn’t get rejected again.”

“And yet, you were okay with me in this film? _You_ wanted that, _you_ made that happen.”

“I don’t know!” he shouted back. Then, at a whisper, “I don’t know.”

“I just…why are you so cruel to yourself? Why are you punishing yourself?”

“It’s not a punishment.”

“Why couldn’t you just listen? Just move on? I’m not worth it, there are millions of other women.”

“Because none of them are _you_!” he bellowed. “Shyla, I just…I love you. You make me crazy, but I love you. And maybe someday I’ll get you out of my head. But until then…I’ll take whatever pieces of you you’re willing to give me.”

“Stop settling! You deserve better!” she took his hand, holding it to her cheek. “You deserve the world,” she murmured. She squeezed her eyes shut, and a fresh tear rolled down her cheek. He moved to hold her face with both hands, wiping her tears away. She raised her eyes to his, “I love you too much to let you be so _mean_ to yourself.”

And he saw it. She _did_ love him. More than he realized, more than he dared hope. She pulled him in for a kiss and crushed his mouth with hers. It was not gentle; it was not soft. It was almost angry. As if she was trying to force her love into him, make him understand. He was shocked, wasn’t sure how to respond. This was all he’d wanted, but was this how he wanted it?

She wrapped her arms around his neck, he felt her tongue dart out to test his lips. And that was what made him break, that little sensation, both so tentative and so bold. He pinned her against the wall, clutching at her desperately, feeling that same drive to force his love into her, make her feel in her bones what he felt. He grabbed her hips, gripped her hair. He realized he was too tall, he needed to press his whole body into her, so he lifted her off the ground, wrapping her legs around his middle and driving her into the wall again. He distantly registered her hands balling into fists in his hair. Finally, he needed to breathe, and broke the kiss. They stayed forehead to forehead, panting, sharing the same air. She opened her eyes, locking with his. And then kissed him so tenderly. His grip softened, not enough to let her down, just enough to be sure he wasn’t hurting her.

“You love me?” he managed.

The look on her face could only be described as a kind of sad incredulity. “Of _course_ I do. Loving you was never the problem.”

“Then what was the problem?”

She laughed, “Literally everything else! Seb, I still don’t know if I can give you all that you deserve.”

“But you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s more than I deserve,” he kissed her again, this time with a smile. She loved him! She loved _him_. He felt a head rush of pure joy and fear, leaving him giddy. He had to force himself to stop, while logic had any kind of voice in his head, “I should…we probably shouldn’t be making out in a random hallway.”

“There’s a service elevator down there,” she inclined her head towards it. “Probably a good escape.”

She laughed as he got a better grip and carried her down the hall. He couldn’t help but respond when her thighs squeezed around him. He mashed the elevator button with her ass, feeling her nuzzle into his neck. When it finally dinged, he hauled her in and pressed her against a wall so he could hit the button for his floor. There was a sort of railing he could rest her on for a little extra support, freeing a hand. He just touched her face, looked at her. Her makeup was a mess, her eyes were red, her skin was blotchy, and he’d never seen anything more beautiful. This was the face of the woman that loved him.

He managed to get her to his room, still wrapped around him. It was a struggle to find his wallet with his room key in it, he was about to suggest he put her down, but she challenged him, “If you think I’m getting down, you’re dreaming,” and started kissing his neck, just where the stubble ended. It didn’t make the key any easier to find, but it was motivating.

He got them inside, kicked the door shut and carried her to the bed. She still clung to him, not letting him put her down without going with her, so he crawled onto the bed with her hanging under him. When he settled on top of her, propped on his elbows, he just smiled at her, brushing her hair from her face. She loosened her grip on his neck, mirroring him, smiling up at him and tucking his hair behind his ear. His hair wasn’t really long enough to stay, so it fell and tickled her nose. She scrunched up her face a little, still smiling, and tried to blow his hair out of her face, equally ineffectively, then just laughed.

He considered continuing to torture her with his hair, but he needed to put his lips on her. He dipped his head to her neck, kissing from her jawline to her collarbone. She started giggling, and he could feel himself give an involuntary chuckle in response. “What?”

“You _loooove_ me!” she said in a teasing, singsong voice.

“And that’s funny?”

“A little bit, yeah. Also, your beard tickles.”

“Should I go shave? I’ll do it right now!” he lifted himself up to a kneeling position, but she kept her legs wrapped around him.

“I’ll wrestle you to this bed if I have to. You know I don’t fight fair,” she threatened.

“Oh, I know it,” he agreed. He took a moment to enjoy the sight of her, sprawled on her back, skirt riding up her thighs. He ran his hands over her legs, watching her try not to smile. He made his touches feather-light, and she burst into another giggle-fit, grabbing at his hands. “I don’t fight fair either,” he reminded her.

He grabbed her thighs and lay back down over her, positioning himself so their bodies fit even closer. She gasped as he lined himself up against her, and she felt the pressure of his need against her. He closed his mouth on hers, gripping her thigh and grinding into her. She moaned into his mouth, hips rising to meet his, and he could feel a hand dig into his hair, and another reaching for his ass. _This_ was the woman he’d seen on that bench a year ago, the woman from his hotel room. And he couldn’t wait to see more of her. He felt her hand move up his back, under his shirt, so he tugged it up over his head, rearing up to pull it off. He wanted to kiss her more, but she held him back, running her hands over his abs.

He let her have a moment, but then he grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head. He held her there with one hand, face hovering over hers, and watched her as he ran his hand down her arm, then tugged at the neckline of her dress and her bra until her breast was freed. But despite her arching her back to meet him, his hand kept going, down to her ass, squeezing it as she squirmed. He lowered his mouth to her nipple, circling it with his tongue, then blowing on it to make it as hard as possible. He rolled it between his teeth, feeling her writhe under him.

She planted her feet on the bed to get better leverage, and their hips found a rhythm. He started to move his hand to her front, but she breathed “No…” He froze, concerned, looking at her face. Had he hurt her? Done something wrong? “It should be your turn,” she managed to explain, and he relaxed.

“It’s okay, baby, we’ve got time,” he insisted, lowering his head to her breast again.

Suddenly, she wrenched her wrists from his grasp, wrapped herself around him, and flipped him so she was on top. She straddled his hips, sitting back, and pulled off her dress saying “I told you: I don’t fight fair.” She unhooked her bra, discarding it, while she said “What do you want?” Her hands started running over his body, leaning forward and pushing her exquisite breasts together. “Right now. If I could give you anything in the world, what do you want?” she purred.

All he could do for a moment was stare up at her, stunned. She was perfect, this moment was everything he’d been wanting. He rose to her, burying his face in her breasts, “Fuck me.”

She pushed him down to the bed, and pinned his arms over his head, entwining their fingers. She pressed into his chest, lowering her mouth to his ear. Her tongue darted out, then she nipped at his earlobe before whispering “No foreplay? No teasing? Just straight to it?” He nodded wordlessly, but that wouldn’t cut it. “Say it,” she insisted, bringing him back to that night on the bench.

His hips bucked a little to meet hers, rocking her forward, pressing her harder into his chest. “Fuck me. Let me fuck you. I need you, need to be inside you. Please, baby.”

He felt her release one of his hands, then could feel her arm snake down between them. She gripped his cock, then started fumbling at his belt. He moved to help her with his free hand, but managed to unbuckle it, and moved on. He slid his hand to her panties, and she gasped, sucking in air.

“You’re distracting me…”

“I can stop…”

She finally shoved his zipper down and grabbed his shaft. “You’ll have to stop to get a condom,” she pointed out.

He continued his ministrations, and grunted “Wallet, left front pocket.”

She dropped her head to his shoulder, moving her free hand to grip the sheets, moaning against him. “Fuck…not helping…” she panted, and she came, biting his shoulder and shaking over him.

God, he hadn’t forgotten what a hair trigger she had, but seeing her make that face again was magic. He needed to see it again, at least a couple more times tonight. He smiled, withdrawing his hand. He sucked her juices off his fingers, savoring her again, then reached to pull his wallet out. He tossed it on the bed and blindly rifled through it to find the condom. Shyla reclaimed his mouth and attention with kisses, and he felt her hand slide along his forearm and claim the condom when he found it. She gave him a last kiss, and gently bit his lip, before pushing herself up to get better access.

She didn’t allow him much time to savor the moment, she had the condom unwrapped and was sliding it onto him before he even realized what was happening. His hips lifted her off the bed for a moment, rising involuntarily to meet her hand. She didn’t even bother taking the rest of their clothes off: she had his cock free from his pants and underwear, and she took him in her hand, using him to nudge her panties aside and the positioning him at her entrance. All he could do was watch as she lowered herself onto him, finally slowing, but to a torturous pace. She arched her back, bracing her hands on his thighs behind her. He couldn’t keep his hands off her, running them up her thighs, grabbing her hips, trying to encourage her to pick up the pace. But she wouldn’t budge, enjoying the languorous grind, grinning wickedly.

He lifted himself to meet her, lavishing her breasts with attention. She folded up, wrapping her arms around his neck. He felt her nails on his back and at his scalp, and heard her mewl “hold me.” He gladly obliged, spreading his hands over her back, pressing her into him, kissing her collarbone and neck. He tugged at the messy bun, pulling her hair loose to tumble down her back. He tangled his fingers into it, and locked eyes with her. Holding him as he held her, her hips moving in slow circles.

“God, I love you,” he managed before kissing her again. Her pace was delicious and maddening, but she went even slower when he distracted her, so he decided to take charge. He moved his hands to her ass, and lifted her again, standing, taking a couple steps and pinning her to the wall. He hooked his arms under her knees, bracing his palms against the wall. Her eyes were closed, and he couldn’t have that. “Look at me, baby. Open your eyes and look at me.”

She opened them with what appeared to be a great deal of difficulty, and he held her gaze as he withdrew almost all the way, and thrust into her. She whimpered when he bottomed out, and with each stroke she had a harder time keeping her eyes open. “That’s it, baby. Come.” From the first time, he’d loved watching her come on his hand, but this…reaffirmed his mission in life, watching her come like that, deep inside her.

He moved to put her back on the bed, laughing to realize that they didn’t have all their clothes off yet. He put her down gently, helped her out of her bra and rolled her soaked panties down her legs. He made quick work of his own clothes, and saw when he looked up at her again, she was propped up on her elbows to get a better view. “Well, big boy, what’s next? Any favorite positions?”

He made a noise deep in his throat, then rumbled, “On your knees.” She shivered under his gaze, and happily obliged, making a bit of a production for her crawl towards the headboard. He positioned himself behind her, ran his hands over her back, brushing her hair to the side. He started kneading at her ass, and she moved her hips back to try to press into him, but he held her in place. “Patience,” he admonished her.

He slid his length along her slit, once, twice, three times before slipping inside her. Even soaking wet, he could feel her walls gripping him. He gave a couple slow strokes for her to adjust, and then picked up the pace. She buried her face in the pillow to cry out, and he saw her hands ball up in the sheets. He dug his fingers into her hips, feeling the end nearing. She lifted her head and looked at him over her shoulder, ass still raised prettily in the air, and simply sighed “Come for me, baby.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He took her by the hip with one hand, the other knotted in her hair, as he slammed into her. She cried out as wave after wave of orgasm crashed through her, and he followed almost immediately thereafter.

When he’d finished, she collapsed onto the bed, rolling onto her side. He wanted to just collapse as well, but he knew he had some cleanup to do. He kissed her hip and patted her ass before sliding off the bed and going to the bathroom. After a quick wash-up, he stood, just looking at her. She’d rolled onto her stomach, had her head pillowed on her arms. And she was _here_ , in his bed. Because she loved him. He could feel the exhaustion creeping in, but he summoned up the energy to pounce on her, leaping into the bed and, after she’d landed, spooning up next to her.

He squeezed her to him, and she just laughed, “Is your refractory period really so short?”

“I’m probably going to pass out in another minute.”

“Well then, while you’re still conscious: thank you. That was…incredible,” she sighed, contented, as he lay with his cheek on her back. Even the scratch of his beard on her sensitive skin wasn’t bothering her.

He kissed her shoulder, “ _You’re_ incredible!”

“I don’t know about that, more like ‘incredibly unfair’.”

“How’s that?”

“Not that keeping score is a great idea in a relationship, but I believe we are at like a 4:1 orgasm ratio. Probably more than that, I kind of lost track there.”

He laughed; he couldn’t help himself. Whatever else happened with their relationship, he was certainly going to have a lot of fun along the way. “You know, I’m actually pretty okay with that. I might even try to maintain it, as a point of pride.” He played with the ends of her hair, coiling it around his fingers.

“I’m not sure that’s how that works…the numbers seem to say more about me than you.”

“Shhhhh…just sit back and enjoy all the orgasms that I am solely responsible for.”

She shifted under him, and turned over so she could lay on her back. He put his head back down on her chest, and traced aimless patterns along her belly. She giggled and grabbed his hand, twining their fingers together. “Oh I know you’re not trying to tickle me, basically after I just offered you a blowjob.”

He craned his neck to look at her, “Wait, is that what that was?”

She laughed at the look of shock and delight on his face, “Well definitely not if you keep tickling me!”

“You strike a hard bargain.”

“Doesn’t seem hard yet.”

“With your offer, it won’t take long.”

She cupped his cheek, kissed the top of his head, and started playing with his hair. “Do you believe me?”

His eyelids were starting to droop. “Hmm?”

“That you aren’t toxic?” she sounded a little worried, so he lifted himself onto an elbow to look her in the eye.

“Was all that to prove something to me?”

“No, that was because I wanted it. I want _you_.”

“Then why are we back on this?” frustration was starting to creep into the edges of his voice.

“Just answer it.”

“Well, I don’t know what to say.”

He saw the same sadness fill her eyes. “How can I get you to see yourself the way I do?”

He held her face and kissed her sweetly. “Just give me a minute to catch up. Just because you spent this whole time thinking I deserved you, doesn’t mean I did. I need to prove to myself that I’m worthy of you, that this isn’t a pity thing, or that you have crappy taste in men.”

“I assure you, it’s not a pity thing. And while I’ve been accused of having low standards, I don’t go for toxic people.”

“I know, I just need to prove it to myself. But I’m excited to start trying.”

She rolled her eyes at him, “Well, did you have any big plans for the weekend?”

He moved his hand down to her hip, and lowered his lips to her neck “Now I have some very specific plans…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Validate me with comments & kudos! Seb doesn't get a lot of love!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a total praise-junkie, so if you want to see more chapters in this ending, let me know with kudos and comments! Sebby gets a bit of a slow burn, I've got a couple chapters ready to go, but still, lemme know!


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